Champion of Cyrodiil
by braydens24
Summary: Cyrodiil is under attack. The Daedra are swarming in like wasps, killing and terrorizing everything. Everything comes down to the success of Darrius the Redguard and Weebam-Na the Argonian's quest to close the gates, end the threat, and save Cyrodiil.


Darrius awoke.

The Redguard rubbed his groggy eyes, ridding them of the residue left behind by sleeping. Not 5 hours previously, he had climbed into bed after a long day of traveling from the high and mighty Cloud Ruler Temple, to his home city of Leyawiin, far to the south of that location. This journey consisted of braving the frigid Jerall Mountains, navigating through the complex network of roads and pathways throughout the province of Cyrodiil, and fending off attacks from wolves, mountain lions, bears, goblins, trolls, bandits, and the like. Such challenges breeds exhaustion, even to one of the greatest fighters Cyrodiil has to offer.

Yet all these challenges he took on and faced with confidence, and succeeded without much difficulty whatsoever. Whatever it was that attacked him would turn and run within seconds, if possible. Oftentimes that opportunity would not present itself, for Darrius spared no life which threatened his own. Hardened by war, Darrius was a well-known individual throughout the land, with a reputation for valor and patriotism, but oftentimes violent and arrogant. He rode the steed of a fallen priest, brutally murdered by Daedra. He girded himself with the armor of the Blades, the elite swordsmen sworn to protect and defend the Emperor himself. And he spoke with a voice capable of commanding multiple armies; it was loud, clear, and commanding. Yet most feared by those who took on him the previous day was his huge, bloodthirsty claymore: Brimstone. Legend has it that it was once the weapon of a Daedra overseer in the Plane of Oblivion, until Darrius himself marched in, killed the overseer, and took the sword upon himself. Yet it was not yet a force to be reckoned with, until it was combined with the very stone that held the sword's existence together – a fiery Sigil Stone. Following the gate's closure, Darrius infused the unholy powers of the Stone with the Daedric ancestry of the blade, and as a result created a weapon unlike anything the world had ever seen. When it struck, tendrils of flame flowed through the victim's veins and over their skin, scorching and scalding as they went. Yet Darrius did not strike only once with his blade; he would not cease his decimation of the unfortunate soul until he lay at Darrius's feet, burnt and bloodied. Many creatures met a similar fate that previous day when Darrius made his journey. Yet soon enough, Darrius would find himself at the mercy of a powerful monster, bloodthirsty and vengeful, much like all the creatures he had slain.

As he awoke, Darrius propped himself up in bed with his mighty arms. He made his way to the chest, and began to put on his armor. He felt the enchantments that his armor bore wash over him like water as he slipped them over his loins: His muscles appeared larger, his mind felt sharper, and his legs carried him swifter. And then he pulled out a long item from the chest, wrapped with cloth and pulsating with energy. He uncovered the fearsome Brimstone, and clutched it in his hands around the hilt. He felt the power course through his veins as he held it, and could almost hear the screams of the lives that it had consumed. It began to take hold of him and distract his mind from reality, until a knock came at the door.

Darrius shook the trance from his head, sheathed his weapon over his back, and opened the door. Weebam-Na stood before him.

"Morning," said the Argonian.

Darrius and Weebam-Na had met as children in Leyawiin, and had grown up together ever since. Best friends all throughout childhood, they decided to join the ranks of the Imperial Army as they turned from boys to men. At their training, and prior to their induction into the Army, Darrius was assigned to be a Warrior, with special talents in the use of blades, and the heaviest of armors, where Weebam-Na trained to be an Archer. Weebam-Na and Darrius both progressed to the top of their classes, and were accepted to join the Army. Yet only a few days prior to their induction, they became intoxicated at a tavern, got into a fight, and killed a Nord, an Orc, and two Wood Elves – all in the same fight. They were both convicted of murder and given a life sentence. Darrius was sent to the Imperial Prison where he eventually met his destiny with Emperor Uriel Septim and his assassination, and Weebam-Na was sent to Bravil to be imprisoned there. Darrius got out of prison with the passage revealed to him by the Emperor and the Blades, and Weebam-Na was able to escape from the poorly guarded Bravil prison. He fled to his hometown of Leyawiin, where he one day ran into Darrius as he was passing through town. Without delay, he joined Darrius and the two became a powerful force known throughout Cyrodiil. They killed monsters and closed Oblivion gates. They explored territories and discovered treasures. And with each passing day, they grew stronger.

"Morning." replied Darrius. "Did you sleep well?"

Weebam-Na walked inside. "Ehh, I slept okay. Not an easy thing to do when you know that when you wake up, you'll have to go and fight for your life inside of an Oblivion gate against monsters twice your size, but I did get a few hours in there. What about you?"

"'Bout the same," said the Redguard. "Alright, what do we need to get done before we talk to the Count?" He sat at the table to finish strapping his greaves to his legs.

Weebam-Na also sat. He picked up a smoked piece of venison from the bowl in the middle of the table and bit into it. He chewed and swallowed, then said, "I need to take my bow to the Figher's Guild to get it fixed. I think it took a hit from a goblin's mace yesterday. It shouldn't take long though. The porter there has had it done in an hour before. Perhaps I'll refill my quiver with some more arrows, too. How are you doing on your equipment?"

Darrius finished the buckle on his greaves and fastened them tight to his muscular legs. "I should be set. I think that I'll go down to Best Goods and Guarantees to see if I can pawn off some of this stuff that I picked up yesterday while I wait for you to get your bow fixed up. Then we'll talk to the Count about sending aid to Bruma."

"Sounds good to me," said Weebam-Na, who pulled out his bow and inspected the damage the Goblin had left in it. Nothing serious; just a tiny fracture along the bottom of it that didn't even go through all the way. His bow was also enchanted with magic powers. Its name was Black Rain, and the receiver of one of its missiles felt the tissue around its impact wither away and die, leaving a radius of blackened tissue that seeped into the bloodstream of the victim and spread throughout the body. One arrow was more than enough to kill a healthy Nord male in a few hours, yet Weebam-Na fired repeatedly and accurately at his target, leaving them dead in a matter of seconds. As he inspected the crack in Black Rain's crest, and held it in his hands, he too could feel the power coursing through the fibers of the wood, which flowed like a river until the fracture, upon which the flow became unclear and fuzzy, like the energy was seeping out of it.

Darrius stood up and pushed aside his chair. "Okay, so how about I meet you back here at Three Sisters' Inn in 2 hours. Sound good?"

Weebam-Na placed his bow over his back and stood up as well. "That sounds good. Let's get going."

They walked out the door and Darrius shut it behind them. As the two made their way towards the exit of the Three Sisters' Inn, Weebam-Na pulled out a coin and flipped it over to Shuravi at the counter. She thanked him and pocketed it.

The two exited the lodge. Darrius waved goodbye to Weebam-Na as he headed off to Best Goods and Guarantees, reaching for his pack to inspect what he was about to sell. He looked over his findings: A lesser soul gem, some rings, a few potions, and a rusty old sword. It wouldn't get him much, but it's less weight to carry around.

Suddenly, he felt himself thrown to the ground by an electric force that hit him like a brick wall. Shocks of electricity ran through his body, and his muscles involuntarily twitched in some areas. He overcame it in a second or two, and got to his feet to face his attacker. He heard people shouting,: "Guards! Assault, Assault!" and "By the Nine! Someone help!" when another bolt threw him backwards again. Feeling the same electric sensation shooting from his body, Darrius struggled to get up this time, as he tried to ignore the pain. He opened his eyes and turned his head as he was standing, and caught sight of his attacker.

It was a man named Cingor. A local member of the Fighter's guild, he could be heard shouting, "For Lord Dagon!" as he prepared to launch another bolt of electrocution at Darrius, who knelt defenseless at the mercy of Cingor's assault. But before he was able to get it off, a loud _pop_ sound was heard, and Cingor dropped dead to the ground.

As a crowd of curious civilians began to gather, and the town watch started to run to the scene of the assault, Darrius got up and walked towards the fallen assailant. He inspected the corpse. A dagger was lodged deep in Cingor's temple, and the point was beginning to emerge from the other side. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and blood began to run from his mouth and nose, even as it gushed freely from the gaping hole the dagger had left. Cingor was dead. But who killed him?

Darrius stood and peered around in all directions, looking for a sign of someone that may have thrown the dagger. No one seemed guilty; most of the faces were of horrified mothers, hiding their children's view from the carnage. Then a small black flicker from the top of the Chapel of Zenithar caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. But once he looked directly at where it was, it was gone. He ran towards the chapel, and began to call out to his unseen guardian. "Hey! Who are you?!" he yelled to the rooftop. "I need to talk to you!"

But no response was given. He looked around all sides of the chapel for clues of the assassin, but none could be found. He also could not find a way to get to the roof of the chapel, and when he asked the monks inside for roof access, he was denied. Not even the city guard was able to obtain access. "The staircase to the roof leads through a holy sanctuary which can only be seen by those who have sworn certain oaths to Zenithar himself. As you have not done so, you are not permitted to pass through," explained Avrus Adas, the Chapel's chief priest. Though Darrius and the town guard pleaded with and even threatened the priest, he would not budge. When Darrius was able to persuade him to allow the Guard to access it with a tall ladder, they found no trace of anybody or anything. It remained a mystery. Yet Darrius pledged to find the one who saved his life and thank him.

As the Guard was taking down the ladder, Caelia Draconis, captain of the Guard, approached Darrius. "Are you alright?" she asked him, as she turned her eyes towards the roof of the Chapel, peering at it suspiciously.

Darrius replied without facing her, "Yeah, I'll be alright. At least, I'll be alright when I know who saved my life. I owe him my thanks."

"We'll keep our eyes out," said Caelia. "It's not like he could have gone far. We have the chapel surrounded, and even if he got off the roof, he won't get out of the city walls without the Guard knowing. We'll catch him."

"Will you treat him like a criminal?" asked Darrius. "He did kill a man, but he killed a man who was trying to kill me. That should stand for something, doesn't it?"

Caelia thought for a moment. "I think that he'll be treated normally. Of course, we'll have to ask him some questions about the incident, but my guess is that he'll get off without so much as a court hearing."

"Hmm." grunted Darrius. "I gotta say though… that's about as good of a dagger throw that I've ever seen. From the top of the chapel to the spot where Cingor was killed is a good 60 or so yards. And did you see that wound? The positioning was perfect; a perfect ace, right through his head. Whoever it was is a trained expert in dagger-throwing, and probably more things than that."

"Do you suppose the Dark Brotherhood could be up to this?" asked Caelia.

"It's not likely. The Brotherhood hates me for clearing out one of their secret sanctuaries in Cheydinhall; there's no way they sent one of their agents to save my life."

"Then who do you suppose it was?"

Darrius pondered. "I have no idea. If I had to guess, I'd say it was one of those dagger-throwing rats we get sometimes."

Caelia laughed, then smiled. "Could be. I'll bring him in for questioning. Want to stop by at the prison for an interrogation later this afternoon? I'll have the pest control take him into custody. That'll get him to talk."

"I would, but Weebam-Na and I have a very important job we need to get done today. Which," Darrius looked at the sky to see about what time it was, "is very behind schedule, thanks to this whole scene. Weebam-Na is probably looking all over for me. Do you guys need me around for anything?"

She shook her head. "No. We just need to get this mess cleaned up, and this ladder off the chapel wall. Good luck with whatever it is you're off to do! And may the Nine bless you with safety and good fortune."

Darrius waved goodbye and took up a brisk pace back to the Three Sisters' Lodge. It was at least 3 hours gone past, probably more, since he had last seen Weebam-Na that morning, a full hour over the time they had agreed on earlier. He opened the door to find a very annoyed Weebam-Na sitting at a table, with an old High Elf. The Elf was talking about his ineffective attempts at wooing a Khajit woman nearly 13 years ago. Weebam-Na was not listening whatsoever. As soon as Darrius opened the door, he stood up and walked towards him. he grumbled somewhat irritably, "Took you long enough. I think I would have shot that Elf clean through the chest if you had arrived 10 seconds later than you did."

Darrius laughed. "Good work on restraining yourself, Weeb. We don't need any more business with the Guard today."

"What do you mean?" inquired Weebam-Na. Darrius went on to explain the whole story. "Ah," said the Argonian. "That explains why you were so late. I guess that I can forgive you for that. But you don't know who did it?"

"No clue," replied Darrius. "It wasn't the Dark Brotherhood, and it wasn't the Figher's guild. The Blades don't operate down here, and the Guard doesn't work in secrecy atop Chapel roofs… Could it have been Blackwood Company?"

"It might have been," said Weebam-Na, "But I don't think they have that kind of skill in their ranks. I don't even think that would be possible to do for a member of any group that might have a place here in Leyawiin. It must have just the Gods watching out for you."

Darrius laughed. "Pah! I think that I'm the last person that the Divines would be interested in helping. We're not exactly on good terms right now. Not since…"

"Yes, I know. We don't have to talk about it right now. What we do need to do is talk to the Count about that Oblivion Gate. There's no way he's going to be sending aid to Bruma with it still being open." said Weebam-Na.

"You're right," concluded Darrius. "Are you ready to fight for your life for the next many, many hours?"

Weebam-Na laughed defiantly. "As always, my friend. As always."


End file.
